The Special Lighter
by The1upguy
Summary: A sequel to the story Banana Pancakes, written by NotMarge. After fulfilling quest number one, Wade decides to make good on the rest of a special Bucket List he made with a good friend. Rated T for coarse language and drug usage.


**Hello fans of Deadpool, and welcome to my first FF story about one of my favorite movies. First off, I want to say I took my mom to see this movie in the theater. And after the first 2 minutes, when that guy's brain matter splattered on the highway, I was mortified. But then Deadpool began to speak, and a moment later I was laughing my ass off, not caring that my 71 year old mother was gasping beside me.**

 **Sorry Mom.**

 **I was inspired to write this after a good friend, NotMarge, wrote a one shot about the gentleman that Wade made friends with while being tortured by Francis. Banana Pancakes is the title, and I suggest you read that one too. It is not as dirty as this one, but that is because there are kids involved. But I'm sure you will agree, NotMarge nails down DP's character perfectly. You will also notice her skills in writing are far superior to my own, however, I will talk about the bad shit, and use curses like Al.**

 **So, kick back, grab a doobie, and lets get this story going...**

* * *

The Special Lighter

He felt so good yesterday morning, enjoying a stack of banana pancakes with Cunningham's children, fulfilling a promise he never made to the one friend he couldn't save. And since Venessa was still on a trip to the Bahamas with the girls for the week, his payment to her for two years of lies, Wade had idea number two on how to honor the man who kept him alive in hell.

"Holy shit, Virginia!" the red suited man barks at his I-phone, seeing the route that he must intercept is hundreds of miles away. And with Dopinder sitting in prison, after the kidnapping and manslaughter charges were brought against him, our hero was forced to steal a car.

However, not wanting to be bored, Wade swings through the ghetto, and picks up and old friend...a very very old friend.

" _Fuck You, John." Al barks at the writer, then swings her arm wildly slapping his lamp from the desk._

 _'Oh, just so you know, I will be using italics when I speak to you...yeah you, behind the computer screen, reading this shitty story...Cause Wade Wilson is not the only one that can breakdown the 4th wall.'_

 _John picks up his lamp, placing it back on the desk, and gives Al the finger._

Tired from the long drive to Virginia, where the Special Olympics are being held, Deadpool begins day dreaming while behind the wheel of his stolen Buick Enclave.

"Now there's my favorite pair of smoooth criminals." he says, noticing a large billboard with the striking Aussie, posing in a pair of Hanes under ware.

"What?"

Al's voice startles the Pool, and quickly he remembers he is not alone.

"Nothing," he replies with embarrassment, quickly trying his best to cover himself. "...just a stupid advertisement with that silly X-men wannabe"

Al, the nice old blind lady that once lived with him, ( _is that better, bitch_ ) sits in the passenger seat, helping make the long ride bearable with her conversations. However, ever since downing a shot of Hennessy at the Marylnd/Delaware border, the old lady has remained quite silent.

But now, hearing the subliminal thoughts of her friend, Al can no longer, in good taste, remain silent.

"Is that the ad where he's in nothing but a pair of tighty whiteys."

Deadpool stares at her for a second, or long enough to switch lanes forcing the car beside them to swerve.

"And... how do you know that?"

He waves his hand in front of her nose, making sure she cannot see.

"I have other friends, you idiot, ones who describe pictures without being a sarcastic prick, like yourself." She then smiles and takes a deep breath. "I know exactly what that stud looks like, and I understand your jealousy."

"Jealousy!? HA!"

Wanting to explode, DP just takes this energy, and puts it into what he is doing, concentrating on the road before him. He turns off the interstate, coming to a stop in a crowded parking lot just off the highway, where hundreds of people have gathered for a special relay.

But not after long parking, he begins to argue with her again.

"I cannot believe you told me to head north on I-95 before." the red suited man bickers, and with a bit of fumbling to find it, Al holds up his phone.

"You got Google Maps, you shoulda used it!" she grunts, never turning to face him, staring out the windshield with her dark glasses.

"Like I can tell which way is north and south, Stupid."

His white eyes focus on the elder black lady, showing the anger that he has, as his chance to fulfill wish two has almost passed by. However, she turns to him, feeling his dead stare, and brings a smile to his face with her sarcastic humor.

"And stop looking at me like I can see how pissed you are." Al with her impeccable hearing, can tell they have not missed the big moment, as the voices of many fill the air. "I can still hear the crowd waiting, so quit complaining and get ready."

"You know... _this_ is the reason I brought you along." he says with a certain joy, returning his eyes forward and continuing with another conversation. He was happy when she agreed to come, as her banter has kept the long ride short.

"I think I would have gone crazy riding down here with Dopinder."

"Don't try to act like you brought me cause I'm good company..." she bickers, reaching into her favorite hiding spot and removing a small bag. "Cause I knew you couldn't score any decent bud and I have better connections."

"Did you really have to keep it tucked between _them_?" he remarks with an attitude, taking the dime bag from her hands while staring at the spot she took it from.

"They're the only two suckers I trust, Wade."

"Moving on!" DP quickly looks away as Al readjusts her bra. He then tries to open the bag, but with his gloved hands he finds it impossible.

"Ahhh!"

Al swipes the bag out of his hand, then takes the pack of EZ Widers from her pocket. With precision in her movements, the elderly blind lady empties the already ground up contents on to a single sheet of paper. She twists it up between her thumbs and forefingers, stopping just as the glue strip reaches the the main body of a perfectly rolled joint.

With a somewhat dry tongue, Al licks the edge of paper and seals it up with one more tight roll.

 _'I don't know if it is appropriate to write the techniques on how to roll a joint, but this a Deadpool story, so I know were all adults, and mostly I really don't give a shit if you're annoyed.'_

"There. That should burn nice..." she remarks with pride in her skills, however, she pulls it back before Deadpool can grab it.

"And you better save me some this time."

DP just smiles and gives her the finger, knowing she cannot see it, then promises to return within a few minutes.

Most of the crowd stares at the red suited man, as he disembarks from his stolen vehicle. But many dismiss him, believing he is just a part of the circus act around them.

Wade sashays to the front line of people, lining the Main St. square of Richmond, where the Special Olympics torch relay has entered their fine city.

Pool, seeing a young lady rolling down the street in a wheel chair with the torch, suddenly feels bad about what he is going to do. However, knowing he is fulfilling a promise to Cunningham, Deadpool gets up the guts to intervene. Like a flash, the red suited non-hero hero runs towards the young girl, startling her to a complete stop.

"Excuse me, sweetie." he says, removing the torch from the special attachment on her wheel chair, then lighting the long thin joint sticking from his mask. He takes a big drag while replacing the symbolic torch in its rightful place.

"That one's for you Cunningham."

Then, noticing nearly a dozen cops heading in his direction, DP simply pats the youngster's head and smiles.

"Good luck in the games, dear..." he takes off running, looking back at the girl as he puffs the joint again. "...and don't smoke weed...it makes you do stupid things!"

 _'Like write a Deadpool story about lighting a joint off the Olympic torch.'_

With his speed and acrobatic ability, Deadpool leads the cops on a long chase away from the parade, allowing the festivities to continue with only his momentary interruption. And after losing his tail, Wade quickly returns to his friend, who waits patiently in the parking lot down the street.

"That was the dumbest thing I've every seen you do." Al remarks, as Pool fires up the engine.

"Well you haven't seen me do very many things, Ms Magoo, so I guess I can't be upset."

The two bicker back and forth for a moment, as the Pool returns to the interstate, heading north towards home. However, as he approaches the interchange for I-40, he looks over at his compatriot.

"Do you have anywhere to be for the next six days?" he asks, turning onto the Westbound on-ramp. "I have one more promise I'd like to fulfill."

Al just looks out the window, wondering what crazy stunt her friend will attempt next.

"I'm up for a ride."

Three days later, in the California residence of one Meredith Baxter.

"I want to thank you for this, Ms. Baxter." Deadpool remarks with a joyful tone in his voice, passing her a joint as they lay beside one another in bed.

"Oh no, think nothing of it DP..." she takes a deep pull off another perfectly rolled joint, then hands it to her right. "I'm a big fan of yours...I've been reading your comics for years."

 _Deadpool stares at you, wondering what the fuck she is talking about._

" _What? I have a comic book that has been out for years...and I don't get anything... What is that shit!?_

 _Calm down Wade, without the comic you would not have gotten a full length movie, and everyone would remember Ryan Reynolds as a the Green Lantern._

" _Well as long as Stan Lee had nothing to do with it, then I'll be fine."_

…

" _Great" Deadpool barks, hearing the writer's silence. He then pulls the blanket over himself and gets back to the end of this story._

"Very Well, let em rip!"

The elder TV star just smiles and pulls the covers over herself as well.

"You better not be doing what I think you're doing!" Al barks, laying in the large king sized bed beside Meredith. And only a moment later, several thunderous explosions are heard, followed by a very pronounced sniff.

"You bastards are sick...I'm going in the other room, and I'm taking the joint with me."

* * *

 **The bucket list is complete. I hope you enjoyed my little tribute to your friendly neighborhood Pool guy.**


End file.
